The Plagueborn
by dinosaurdoors
Summary: Hatched out of a forgotten egg, a young dragon called Arco sets out to find his true home. Along the way he is swept up in an ancient conflict that threatens the survival not only of his newfound friends, but of all dragonkind.
1. Prologue

Prologue

On the eastern edge of the inland ocean, in the warm tidal pools sheltered from the worst of the waves by sturdy reefs, a crowd of juvenile Maren were at play. This was a treat, sneaking away from their strict elders down below and frolicking on the alien shoreline. They made a game of collecting strange artifacts that washed up on the beaches and imagining their uses—for instance, a twisted piece of dried-out driftwood resembled a fearsome warrior's spear, or the scratches on a stone might actually be an arcane language from a time long past. As they splashed about carelessly, the young sea folk were blissfully unaware of the fierce and predatory eyes watching them from on high.

A great shadow passing over the pools changed that. With a fearsome roar, a dragon plunged out of the sky, the force of her wings buffeting the Maren with a sharp wind and teasing the calm waters into a white-capped fury. Their mouths open with silent screams of fright, the Maren fled the shallows and swam as fast as their shining fins could carry them back to their home in the Tidelord's realm.

Satisfied, the Skydancer alighted on the rim of one pool, beside a pile of the Maren's useless junk. She rifled through it with her snout for anything of interest—and recoiled when she touched something slimy, slippery, and exceedingly foul. And the smell (oh, by the Eleven, the _smell_) might have made a weaker dragon heave. Setta, however, was not a weak dragon. Growling low in her throat, she shifted bits of seaweed and refuse aside until she found what had offended her nose so badly.

It _looked_ like an egg, round and green and rotten. Rolling it over with one claw, she saw that despite all her sense telling her the contrary, it hadn't actually gone bad. Beneath its translucent surface she could see a mass pulsing and wiggling with life.

It certainly wasn't like any egg Setta had ever seen before. Her first instinct was to throw it back into the ocean where the Maren had undoubtedly found it. But where had it come from? Had they stolen it? Setta's opinions of the Beastclans were not exactly favorable. It was the Maren, after all, who had destroyed her own nest and its precious clutch of eggs during one of their senseless raids some weeks before. The colony of dragons that made their home on this edge of the inland sea had turned them back, of course, but at a terrible cost. After several more moments' consideration, Setta took the strange egg gently in her mouth and flew away.

The other dragons of her lair, an even mix of graceful Skydancers and haughty Pearlcatchers, watched from their sunny spots on a small rocky island as she returned. Her nearest denmates sniffed the ocean-borne breeze as it carried her scent and the scent of her find over to them. Shocked by the stench, several dragons squawked indignantly. A few skydancers spontaneously molted their feathers. And all of the newborn hatchlings, confused and terrified by the pungent reek of death and despair, began to cry.

Setta pretended not to notice all of their distress as she settled the putrid egg down in the stone circle that she had carved out as a labor of love with her own sharp claws. The leader of the lair, however, wasted no time in making it known that she did not approve of their latest arrival.

"_Setta_, what. Is. That." Aria was a Pearlcatcher half Setta's size with an _astronomical_ attitude. As always, she clutched a pearl in her front claws as she waddled over to investigate. She didn't get too close, of course, speaking nasally as she tried not to breathe in too deeply. "I know you're upset about your nest but I hardly think gathering spoiled—"

"It's not spoiled, it's perfectly alive," Setta said sharply. She sat with her tail curled about the nest protectively and began to preen. "I don't see what all the fuss is about."

"Whatever it is, it stinks," Aria's lips curled and she bared her fangs. "Get rid of it."

Setta clicked her jaws testily. "No."

The Pearlcatcher looked taken aback. Her long whiskers twitched as she inhaled (fighting the urge to gag) and prepared to unleash an authoritative tirade on the virtues of putting the Lair before the Self. However, before she could begin, there was a horrific ripping sound, and the severity of the smell instantly doubled. Setta looked down, alarmed, as the egg she had found burst open like a rotting corpse.

From out of the green slime emerged a creature quite unlike either of them had ever seen. With a dark grey body alternately striped and spotted, his face had pale markings that resembled an ominous skull. On his back were sopping-wet wings and on his feet were cruelly curved claws. But what alarmed Aria the most were his eyes, vibrantly red, blinking up at Setta curiously. Apparently unperturbed by his own noxious odor, the hatchling opened his mouth and let out a pitiful wail of hunger.

"_Plague dragon!_" Aria shrieked, backing up rapidly and flapping her wings to maintain balance. She hugged her pearl for dear life. Around them, the other dragons of their clan heard the outcry and began to panic, snatching up their young and retreating to the far side of the island. But Setta hunched over him protectively, daring Aria to try and get rid of him _now_.

The two dragons faced off, both fiercely protective of what they considered theirs. The hatchling cowered between Setta's legs, too ignorant to know that the first few minutes of his life were terribly inauspicious. Aria, however, understood what his presence would mean for the dragons under her care and wanted him _gone_. She snarled and snapped until at last Setta drew back, exposing the hatchling to her lair leader's critical gaze.

Aria thought carefully. She would not cull a newborn, even if it was a native of that sick land across the sea. She _might_ order Setta to abandon it in the wilds, where it would not survive long but at least would not bring strife to their roost. But before she could make her decision, Setta snatched the little one in her claws and leapt from the rock. Her powerful wings lifted them both high into the air, and Aria continued to growl even until the pair was well out of sight. As the clan settled down again, she nervously pushed the squishy, squicky leftovers of the egg off the rock and into the water where it would be washed away with the tide. Bile rose in her throat but she managed to keep it down. Returning to her nest, and her own trio of hungry hatchlings, she considered coughing up the memory and depositing it on her pearl—but eventually decided against it. With any luck, Setta and her freakish little foundling would never return and they could put this whole incident behind them.

She hoped.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

On the northeastern edge of the Emberglow Hearth, between the imposing rock columns that rose out of the ground, an ember mouse peered out of its hole. The lights on its whiskers quivered as it sniffed the air for signs of trouble. Other than the ever-present reek of brimstone that settled over the relatively calm lava pools, she smelled nothing. Heard nothing. A few cautious steps out of the hole were enough to convince the little mouse that perhaps today was the day. Quickly, she skittered toward the great imposing cliffs that separated the Windswept Plateau from its temperamental neighbor, the Ashfall Waste.

But not quickly enough. Swift as a shadow, something pursued the little mouse, snapping at her tail with razor-sharp teeth. For a brief moment, the ember mouse knew the joy of flight as she was flung unceremoniously into the air—and then caught between a pair of relentlessly hungry jaws.

_Crunch_.

The young dragon licked his chops and lowered his snout to the ground, seeking out more prey. It was important to have plenty of snacks before going on a grand adventure, after all. His perceptive red eyes and finely-tuned nose found nothing, however, and he continued his quest toward the cliffs. The freckled red wings held close to his back were not yet mature enough for flight—if they ever would be. He didn't know for sure, since he'd never met another dragon of his kind. No, he'd have to find another way to scale these imposing heights. As he approached the rock wall, he saw the scars left behind by previous attempts and tossed his head in eager anticipation.

As he passed into the cliffs' cool shadow, Arco stopped and stretched. Today was the day. He was sure of it this time. Sucking in a lungful of sulfur-tinged air, he posed and took a running start at the unforgiving cliff face. When he was near, he flexed his long rear legs and jumped. The two curved talons on his feet sank deep into the chalky surface, and his front claws scrabbled for purchase. He slid down the wall a brief distance, but managed to keep his hold. Already his muscles were screaming with the effort it took to stay on, but stubbornly, Arco began to climb.

He didn't know how much time had passed before his head cleared the high edge and he felt the fresh breeze of the Plateau on his face. Laughing gleefully, he turned to see how far he'd come—and immediately regretted it. Now feeling that little mouse threaten to make an encore appearance, Arco heaved himself up and over and sighed with relief when he was once again on solid ground.

The Plateau was like an entirely different world. As far as he could see was tall, green grass and bright blue sky. In the distance he thought he could even see the colorful kites that the much-friendlier denizens of this region were famous for. Taking his first steps forward in this strange new place, Arco at last felt at peace.

The sensation did not last long. Striding through the grass, he kept his eyes turned up at those distant dark specks, wondering who might be flying them and if, like he hoped, they might look anything like him. But the longer he looked, the more Arco suspected they were not kites at all. Their flight patterns were too fast and disjointed. Finally, the irregular shapes solidified and the delight he felt became fear as riding toward him, carried by the wind, was a flock of a dozen ferocious Talonok.

Arco unleashed a short, wordless screech and began to run. His path was parallel to the edge of the Plateau, and the Talonok changed direction rapidly to chase after him. He could hear their war cries growing louder as the distance between them shrank. Then their malicious calls became shrieks as another dragon appeared, diving out of the sky where the sun had blinded the Talonok to her presence.

Setta used her larger size to her advantage, crashing into one flying spearman as she seized another in her jaws. She shook the hapless bird like a ragdoll before tossing him carelessly out of sight. Arco stopped running and turned to watch as Setta artfully avoided the slash of one Raptorik veteran's blade, snatching the weapon out of his talons and snapping it neatly in half. She landed and swept three more out of the air with her long tail, roaring in triumph as they tumbled head over tailfeathers into the grass. Realizing that their numbers didn't mean much in the face of an enraged Skydancer, the Talonok retreated, promising vengeance in their bizarre bird tongue as they flew back the way they had come.

Arco jumped, gnashing his teeth victoriously, though he really hadn't done much to defend himself. Setta whirled to glare at him, growling her displeasure, and his celebration immediately ceased. He hung his head and kept his tail low as he walked toward her, knowing what she was going to say before she even said it.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm grounded."

* * *

><p>They returned to their most recent lair with little fanfare. A wide-mouthed cave in the hollow of a rocky hill, it was led by an enormous, heavily scarred Ridgeback called Koba that had made it his home after his first clan had driven him out in favor of his younger, stronger son. From his spot on a rise just inside the cave's entrance, he raised his great head as they entered, revealing the broken-off snub of his snout that was a testament to his lifetime of battling. He was the oldest dragon Arco had ever seen during their wandering from lair to lair, and probably the most mild-mannered. He was also the only one who had never complained (at least to his face) about the <em>smell<em>.

The other firedrakes in Koba's lair weren't always so polite. A middle aged coatl with dusty-dark scales hummed unpleasantly and turned her back when they walked past her deeper into the cave. A pair of twin fae, exceedingly young and annoying, made a show of coughing breathlessly as they zipped over Arco and Setta's heads and out into the afternoon sunlight. The only dragon who didn't appear disturbed by their presence was Resheph, another wanderer from the faraway Sunbeam Ruins. Though blind, the Skydancer followed them (somewhat) with his eyes as Arco walked toward a small alcove off the cave's main chamber that he had designated as his own.

"How far did you make it this time?" He asked softly, with the slightest hint of amusement.

Arco did not reply, only gnashed his teeth and sat down to pout.

"_Arco_," Setta chastised him, then laid down beside Resheph to clean herself up. The younger dragon answered her with a glare.

Setta dislodged a small brown feather from her own thistle-colored ones. It drifted to the cave's dirt floor, where Resheph sniffed it studiously.

"Talonok?" He sounded concerned now. "Were either of you hurt?"

"Despite Arco's best efforts, no," Setta assured him.

The younger dragon looked up from the mindless scratches he was making on the cave wall. "What is that supposed to mean?" He raised his hackles. "I could have taken them."

Setta snorted in disbelief. "Taken them for a few laps around the Plateau, perhaps."

"Arcanist's Eyeballs, I'm _eighteen months old_!" Arco began to growl. "If you would just let me go out on my own, maybe I could _prove_—"

The female Skydancer whipped her head around and said sharply, "Watch your language."

With the air of one who had mediated an argument like this too many times to count, Resheph interjected patiently, "Arco, your mother is only looking out for you."

Riled up from a busy morning of climbing up cliffs, being chased by vicious birdmen, and being dragged home again, Arco retorted angrily, "She's _not_ my mother! She just found my egg!"

The tricky thing about caves without much in them was that they carried sound remarkably well. Arco's shout bounced out of the alcove and echoed around them, startling even the mostly-deaf Coatl. Koba opened one bright orange eye and rumbled his displeasure at being disturbed.

Setta, however, said nothing. She simply stood and found another spot to resume her grooming, her back to the sulking Arco. With a heavy sigh, Resheph made as if to join her—but she snarled and made it clear she was not to be bothered. So he stretched out a safe distance away to wait it out.

Arco curled up with his head tucked beneath his wings, blocking out the play of shadows on the wall, thrown up by the light from the fire in the middle of the cave. He didn't want to feel bad about what he said, but he did. He didn't want to apologize, either. But maybe he would, after they'd both had a chance to cool off.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

True darkness rarely ever fell over the Ashfall Waste. Even at night from the ever-flowing magma pools reflected from the cloud-choked sky and cast the world in a fiendish yellow glow. It did not take long for Arco's sharp eyes to adjust to this eerie twilight as he stepped out of Koba's lair, forsaking Setta's forgiveness and following instead the insatiable need he had to discover who, and what, he truly was. Like the sleeping dragons in the cave behind him, the Waste rumbled softly as he trotted westward, back toward the Windswept Plateau.

This time, before he climbed up the wall, he rolled in the ash and soot that always covered the ground here in the Flamecaller's kingdom. It would coat his scales so that they would not reflect or catch the light, and would somewhat cloak the pervasive smell that seemed to accompany him wherever he went. When he climbed the steep cliffs this time, he did not look back.

Again, the breeze welcomed him when he reached the Plateau's edge. The grass rustled like the Inland Sea, and the sky here was a rich, inviting purple. Stars winked down at Arco, undisturbed by any Talonok patrols or protective dragon mothers. Bracing himself, the young dragon inhaled and then dove into the unknown.

He thanked all the ancestors he never knew for the endurance and speed that carried him far across the Plateau before the horizon began to brighten. But as soon as the sun peeked over the lip of the world, he felt exhaustion begin to creep up. Slowing to a walk, Arco raised his head over the tall grass to look for a cave, or a tree, or literally _anything_ that might constitute a shelter. He had no idea how the denizens of the Plateau—of which he had seen _none_ so far—survived without places to go to ground and hide. As the sun rose, he thought he could see the vague shape of a mountain in the distance. Where there were mountains, there were caves. He shifted his path, keeping a bleary eye on the sky in case the beastmen from the day before decided to reappear. But as the time and distance wore on, the mountains didn't seem to get any nearer, and Arco at last felt like he could run no more.

Tongue lolling and eyes refusing to remain open, he paused and laid himself down in the grass. Just for a minute! A brief respite, and then he would be on the move again, out to conquer the great wide somewhere. Arco the Adventurer, they would call him, passing his story down through the generations… And maybe along the way he'd figure out how to get rid of the _stink_…

* * *

><p>"<em>LOOK OUT!<em>"

Arco had no idea what time it was when he was woken up by screaming. His eyes shot open and he leapt to his feet, looking around in terror for attacking Talonok. Or Setta. He wasn't sure which would be worse.

_Something_ was careening out of the sky toward him, and by the time he realized it was another dragon, they smashed into him with a painful _BAM!_ Dust and grass rose into the air as Arco and the ungainly flier tumbled head over heels for several meters before finally coming to a graceless stop. They lay stunned for a few moments before Arco tried to get up—but found himself pinned, his body wrapped several times by that of the spiral who had crashed into him. Untangling themselves turned out to be quite the ordeal, as the stranger kept twisting around and apologizing as loud as he could.

"WOAH! Sorry! That squall came outta nowhere! Nor'easters, I tell ya! What's that smell? Who're you? Get off my tail! Where'd my bag go? My bad, friend, the winds here can be a might unpredictable. Where ya headed? Need directions? Me too. My name's Werd. This is my first job, very important, kind of in a rush, so if you don't mind—"

Before Arco could object, the spiral pushed one clawed foot against his face and squeezed Arco free of his coiled length. They separated with a _pop!_ sound not unlike that of a Reef Snail being pried out of its shell to be eaten. Rolling over to get a better look, Arco snapped, "Hey! Watch where you're going!"

Werd righted himself and shook his long, green striped body. Around his neck was a necklace with a gleaming silver pendant decorated by an unfamiliar rune. Like other spirals Arco had met, he was far too scatterbrained to focus on just one thing, and he began hopping around in the grass in a state of absolute distress. "My bag!" He cried. "Where's my bag!?" He began to twist himself into an uncomfortable knot. "It's very important! I _need_ it!"

Arco's irritation gave way to sympathy. This hapless spiral hadn't crashed into him on _purpose_, after all. Avoiding Werd's erratic tantrum, he looked through the grass for this precious bag and found a dented scroll case laying not far from where they'd collided. Taking it up in his mouth, he returned to the stranger and asked, "Ith thith eh?"

As distraught as the spiral had been before, he was now absolutely elated. "Yes! Yes it is! Thank you!" He took it in his front claws and performed an impressive backflip as he began to hover in the air. "You're a real pal! What's your name? Where ya goin'? Where ya from?" He punctuated each question by shoving his face uncomfortably close to Arco's, who backed up cautiously and prepared for Werd to realize what everyone _always_ did.

Then Werd's nostrils flared and his eyes finally focused on Arco's. Surprised, he shouted, "Plague dragon! Well, that explains the smell." But he didn't do anything else, just continued to hover and wait for a reply.

Arco, however, wasn't sure what to do with this indifferent reaction. "Um, yes," he finally mumbled. "That doesn't… that doesn't bother you?"

Werd grinned. "Friend, I shared my nest with fifteen brothers and sisters! Believe me, I've smelled it all."

That wasn't exactly reassuring. "My name's Arco. I'm not exactly sure where I'm going."

"No? Why not? You really shouldn't be wandering around out here if you don't know where you're going. It's dangerous! There's beast clans! And savage nor'easters! I just learned that. Be careful how you fly!"

Arco looked away, embarrassed. "I don't fly."

"You don't _fly!_" Werd was apparently so shocked that his whole body straightened out and went rigid. He fell to the ground with a _thud_. "What kind of self-respecting dragon doesn't fly?"

Arco felt his earlier annoyance return. "I don't know! That's why I'm here! I'm trying to find where my home is so maybe I can figure that out!"

"Your home?" Werd asked, his tone puzzled. "Well your home would be the Scarred Wasteland, wouldn't it?"

"The Scarred Wasteland?" Arco had never heard that name before, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

"That's where Plague dragons come from. The Plaguebringer's domain. Nasty place. Never been. Nobody has. But if you're looking for answers, that's probably where you'll find them."

Faith in his quest restored, Arco asked eagerly, "Where is it? How do I get there? Is it far?"

"Oh yes, absolutely, you'll never make it on foot. If the beastmen don't get you the Wandering Contagion surely will."

Arco deflated.

"But if you come with me to the Cloudsong I'm sure there's somebody there who can take you. There's sky ferries to all corners of the world up there. _Windsinger's spines_, I almost forgot!" Werd's wings began to buzz with how rapidly he flapped them. "I'm on an important mission! I have to go!" He caromed up into the air and began to zip northward.

Still earthbound, Arco chased after him. "Wait!" Bawled the younger dragon. "What's the Cloudsong? How do I get there!?"

Werd slowed and came to a stop. His ever-pumping wings stilled, and he fell a short distance back to the ground. When Arco reached him, he found the spiral curled up protectively around his scroll case… fast asleep.

If Arco hadn't ever met a spiral dragon before, this might have concerned him. But spirals were predictably unpredictable, and their frenetic fits of activity were always followed by blessedly peaceful naps. This was an issue for Arco, however, since Werd was the only one around who could tell him how to get to this Cloudsong place. And, as he had said, the Plateau was dangerous for dragons on the ground.

Arco lowered his head to give Werd a nudge. "Hey! Wake up! What happened to your mission?"

"Missin'? Who's missin'?" Werd replied groggily, not even opening his eyes.

"Nobody's missing! We're going to Cloudsong, remember?"

"Hmmm? Five more minutes, Ma." Werd's coils tightened and he buried his head under a wing.

Growling with frustration, Arco put his teeth on the scroll case and tried to wiggle it free. "C'mon!" He urged. "Leth go!"

Werd held it fast, surprisingly strong for someone so decidedly unconscious. With a final snort of outrage, Arco stepped back and considered his options. Then, cautiously, he shoved his head beneath Werd's thankfully light frame. The spiral didn't stir as Arco wiggled himself under and then lifted him onto his back, spreading his wings a little to keep Werd balanced. They'd just have to travel like this until he woke up. It wouldn't be so bad.

Checking the position of the sun in the sky, Arco reoriented himself and faced north, the direction Werd had been flying before he'd passed out. He could see that same mountain, wide and hulking on the horizon. In the opposite direction, a great expanse of clouds had begun to gather and the wind could not decide which direction it wanted to blow. All around him, the grass swayed erratically. Instead of thinking it ominous, Arco decided to believe this turn in the weather was a boon—it meant Talonok and the other beast clans wouldn't be out patrolling. Craning his neck around to make sure his new friend Werd was safely on board, Arco began to sprint. He only had thoughts for the Scarred Wasteland, or, as he supposed he should call it, home.

* * *

><p>The storm stayed in the south though the wind grew no less restless on the Plateau. As Arco neared the great landmass in the distance, he saw it was not a mountain at all, but an array of tall steppes. Above it clouds gathered as if shielding it from something above—or hiding something else from prying eyes below. Dragons glided over his head in every direction, bolstering his confidence that they were going the right way.<p>

As abruptly as he fell asleep, Werd rocketed awake, arching off of Arco's back to cartwheel into the grass in front of him. "Where are we? What's happened? What's going on?!" The spiral demanded, clutching the scroll case for dear life.

Arco stretched his wings and shook his whole body, glad to be able to move freely for the first time in hours. "We're going to Cloudsong, remember? Your mission. And here we are!"

He put his chin up proudly and nodded at the steppes. He could see, as the land rose high above them, the small groups of dragons as they moved between their lairs or glided out over the Plateau to hunt for their supper. His own stomach rumbled as Werd tapped his chin with a claw and said, "OHHHHHH." Then he snickered. "Silly Arco! This isn't Cloudsong." He pointed. "_That's_ Cloudsong."

Worried for a minute that he'd gone the absolutely wrong direction, Arco followed Werd's line of sight to the clouds. As if on cue, they parted, revealing a swarm of shapes and colors. Bound to the ground by impossibly long lengths of rope were hundreds upon hundreds of wooden platforms, held aloft by kites and balloons in sheer defiance of all the laws of nature. The sight boggled Arco, who gaped at Cloudsong, then Werd and back again.

"Is that for real?"

"As real as you or me," Werd answered brightly.

"How do we get up there?"

"We fly." Werd hesitated. "Well, _I_ fly. You, uh, well you're gonna have to hitch a ride."

"A ride? With who?"

Bobbing his head, Werd slung his precious scroll case under one arm and beckoned for Arco to follow. The pair climbed up the rise in the land until they reached a space crowded with dragons—and beastclan. Arco saw a handful of longnecks milling about, as well as a pair of serthis and a solitary centaur. He froze.

Werd noticed. "What is it? Them? Relax, Archie. Dragons aren't the only folks tryin' to make a living around here, y'know. Merchants of all kinds come to Cloudsong. Tourists, too. Those Longnecks aren't half bad, they can read the winds almost as good as we can. It's their sharp sniffers. I'd stay clear of the serthis, though. And definitely don't ever sit down to drinks with one. I wonder what that centaur's up to? You don't see many of those around here, they're not so great with heights."

As the spiral chattered, he wove through the crowd with expert ease. Arco struggled to follow, since it was difficult to push between the other dragons without feeling like he was being rude. Most of the other dragons were too old or too young to make the flight up to Cloudsong themselves, or were too laden down with parcels to even hope to make the journey. They were gathered around an outpost that had been built beside one of the huge ropes that anchored the city in the clouds. Arco could see a wooden gondola hanging from it, close to the ground, with a great expanse of cloth spread out before it. Perched on its roof were a pair of spiral dragons, napping. It was a curious device, one that he didn't get much time to study as the crowd suddenly surged forward. Towering over the gathered dragons and beastclan was a silver Guardian wearing a bright green tunic. "Tickets," she commanded. "Tickets, please. No pushing. Ma'am, I'm speaking to _you_."

Despite the order not to push, Werd squeezed his way to the front. "'Scuse me," he chirped. "My assistant and I are here on official Arcanist business!" He raised himself on his haunches so that his silver pendant was on eye level with the stern ticket-taker. "We need to get up to the city as quickly as possible!"

The guardian didn't seem particularly impressed, but rolled her head on her neck in a dismissive gesture. "Of course. The ambassadors of the Arcanist are always welcome to the Windsinger's city."

Werd zipped past her toward the gondola. Careful to keep his head down, Arco followed. The wooden floor creaked as still more dragons and then the centaur climbed aboard after them. When the gondola was full to bursting, the ticket taker swung the wooden gate of it shut. She peeked her head over the roof and squinted at the dozing spirals before roaring loudly in their faces, "READY TO GO?"

With identical terrified shrieks, the spirals snapped awake. "READY, CAPTAIN!" They snatched up two ropes that were tied to the great cloth in front of them. To Arco's untrained eyes, it resembled an enormous parachute.

The great guardian began to count down, "Three…"

The young plague dragon watched Werd loop around one of the gondola's supporting beam tightly. "You'd better hang onto something, Archie." The spiral warned.

"Two…"

"It's _Arco_," the other corrected.

"One!" The guardian roared. "_Lift off_!"


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Four

There came the sound of hard nails on wood as the two spirals on top of the gondola braced themselves. They held tight onto the ropes that held the great big swath of fabric in front of them and inhaled. Then, using the magical gifts granted them by the patronage of the Windsinger, they blew out. The air gained momentum until it became faster and bigger than anything the spirals could contain in their puny lungs, pushing the fabric up and out like a parachute. However, when it carried them up the rope toward Cloudsong, Arco thought it was more like a kite or a hot air balloon. Truthfully, it was an uncanny combination of all three, and as they rose higher and higher into the air, he began to appreciate it all the more.

The crowd and the wide green world of the Plateau fell away as clouds dove down to meet them. If Cloudsong had looked incredible and enormous from the ground, it was absolutely mind boggling up close. The platforms bobbed up and down as dragons and beastclan moved around them. Most of the balloons were clustered together and on top of each other, with strings tapering off like tentacles. Werd pointed to the far end of the city, and Arco saw a formation made to look like an enormous, sinuous serpent. "That's where I'm going!" Werd shouted over the rush of the wind as the gondola pushed ever higher. "The Windsinger's temple!" He picked up his scroll case and said, "I'm on a very important mission!"

"I know!" Arco shouted back in reply as the cloud-crowned temple disappeared behind a mass of kites. The gondola slowed and reached the top of the rope, secured to the bottom of a floating platform. Another hovered just a few feet below them, and the passengers disembarked. The spirals on top of it collapsed, knotted around each other with exhaustion.

"Wouldn't want their job," Werd said as he and Arco stepped away from the gondola. The younger dragon looked around, his red eyes wide with wonder. The platform they stood on was attached to its neighbors by plank and rope bridges used by those visitors who could not fly. After taking a moment to mentally prepare himself, Arco peered over the platform's edge. However, instead of seeing the far-off ground, he watched a hot food vendor ride the air currents up to meet them. A middle aged harpy, she used her wings to propel her balloon-strung wooden cart while her sharp claws attended her wares. She clucked over barbecued rodents of all shapes and sizes as she spied potential customers.

"Fresh field rat!" She squawked. "Deep fried ferret! Are you hungry, laddie? A seared sparrowmouse or three will put the meat on your—oh my!" She shrieked in alarm as she came close enough to see Arco's face. Her friendly and maternal manner disappeared. "Don't you touch my cart!" She backwinged hurriedly to another platform.

Sighing dejectedly, Arco turned to Werd. The spiral dragon hummed thoughtfully. Handing over his precious scroll case for a moment, he zipped up to one of the many strings of wing socks that clung to the sides of Cloudsong's balloons. He plucked a black and tattered one from the end, then shot back down to rejoin his companion. He shoved it unceremoniously over the younger dragon's head, fashioning it into a simple hood.

"Ta-da!" He declared triumphantly.

Arco shook his head, disoriented by how the hood made everything look—and sound. He peered out of its dark depths at Werd. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

Werd shrugged. "I can't do anything about the smell, but this should keep folks from screaming in fear at the sight of you." He barrel rolled through the air in front of Arco. "Well, it's been fun, but I really should get going! Very important, y'know, I'm on a miss-"

"—Mission for the Arcanist, yeah," Arco had begun to doubt the importance of Werd's so-called mission. After all, if whatever you needed to send was safe in the claws of a fast talking, sharp, nosed, narcoleptic noodle, it couldn't be that crucial. "Well, thanks for everything!"

"Anytime, Archie!" Werd somersaulted away, leaving Arco alone on the platform. As the younger dragon left the landing pad and entered the stream of foot traffic on the city's unorthodox walkways, he realized had never been among other dragons without Setta before. Arco felt exposed and more than a little foolish. Dergs and beastclan alike rushed around Cloudsong, ignoring him; and instead of feeling relieved, he felt insecure and small. The sight of so many dragons flying carelessly, either in play or with purpose, filled him with feelings of envy and inadequacy. Maybe his mother had been right, and he wasn't prepared to take on the whole world after all.

Arco turned around and used his long legs to leap and weave through the crowd until he reached the gondola's platform. The spirals, rested after a fifteen minute owlcat nap, began to push the carriage along its rope until it dangled just at the edge—and then went over. Crying out, Arco skidded to a stop and watched the gondola plummet, convinced it was going to be smashed into splinters. Then the spirals unrolled their parachute and the gondola floated down to the earth as gently as a dandelion seed.

The plague dragon closed his eyes and sighed, half relieved, half resigned. Well, he wouldn't be going home _that_ way. And Werd was long gone, so Arco would need to find another way out of Cloudsong. Careful of the platforms' edges and the very empty miles of air between him and gruesome death, he rejoined the throng.

* * *

><p>Werd was so excited to finally see the Windsinger famed flying temple that he almost crashed right into it. He zoomed around Cloudsong, not paying any mind to other fliers, wind direction, or even the laws of physics as he careened through the air and stopped just short from the great wooden effigy of the wind god's face that served as the temple's entrance. His face was bright with delight as he took in the sight of prayer wheels and pennants dangling from the Windsinger's horns and the silvery clink of wind chimes hidden deep in the effigy's nostrils. Even though their ruling deity was incorporeal, the creatures loyal to the Wind flight still appealed to them the only ways they knew how.<p>

Dropping to his feet and entering the temple through the wide-open mouth, Werd squinted against the relative darkness inside the elaborate kite's sturdy walls. It was also shockingly quiet; the ever-present rush of wind that filled his ears outside was now almost undetectable, as were the perky notes of the wind chimes. If Werd had anyone around to tell, he'd say it was almost _too_ quiet.

Venturing in farther, he found the temple's lone attendant, a snapper. The presence of a notoriously land-bound dragon species surprised Werd, but not so much that he forgot his reason for being there. "Good afternoon!" He said cheerfully, presenting his scroll case to the snapper, who stood at a lone podium reading the augurs in a fistful of bird bones. Whatever they had to say must have been incredibly interesting, because the snapper didn't budge when Werd greeted him. The spiral waited a moment more before raising himself up on his rear legs and shouting in the other dragon's face, "I said, GOOD! AFTER! NOON!"

The snapper's eyes flew open and he made a sound between a gasp and a deep-chested wheeze. He dropped the bones and they tumbled out of sight. What Werd had mistaken as an expression of deep concentration had actually been one of deep sleep—but, being prone to sudden onsets of unconsciousness himself, he couldn't even be angry. Instead, he waited as the snapper collected his wits and adjusted the comically small glasses perched on the edge of his snout. "Can I help you?" He finally asked hoarsely, and Werd understood instantly. Of course the snapper was asleep. He was _old_.

As old as the Windsinger themself, from the looks of it. "Mission. Important. Arcanist." Werd practically vibrated with agitation, but the snapper didn't seem to notice.

"A messenger from the Arcanist?" The snapper asked, painfully slowly.

"Yes!" Werd tore open the scroll case and pulled out the lengthy ribbons of paper contained within. He thrust them out toward the elderly dragon. "Urgent message! World at stake!" He didn't actually know if that was what the paper said, but he couldn't stand to go slow. If he went slow, heart might stop and then he would die, and then he'd never get his list of chores done.

Stars were born and then burned out in the time it took for the snapper to step down from his podium and come around to take the scroll. He adjusted his glasses again and began to read the Arcanist's crabbed handwriting. "Oh," he said thoughtfully. Then, a little livelier, "Oh! This is an urgent message indeed. It must be passed along post haste."

The snapper then headed deeper into the temple at glacial speeds. Just like the city outside, there were many platforms here, all connected one to the other by rope bridges in a straight line inside the kite. They groaned under the snapper's weight as he led Werd toward a pinpoint of light far in the distance. As they climbed on, the spiral dragon realized it was the far end of the Windsinger float, where a small opening at the end of the tail allowed air to pass through like an impossibly large wind sock. They did no go that far, however; they reached a platform that must have been somewhere in the middle. Something tall was hidden beneath a tall protective tarp in the center of the stage. Asleep in front of it was a coatl, affirming Werd's growing belief that this was probably the single most boring place he'd ever been in his whole life.

"Mamoru!" The snapper bellowed sluggishly. He approached the coatl, who snapped awake with an astonished humming. "Wake up!" Said the snapper. "We have an important message here from the Arcanist! The Windsinger must be alerted immediately!"

Mamoru made a rattling sound in his throat. Though Werd was not familiar with the subtleties of coatl language, he guessed that the Windsinger's acolyte was not pleased.

"No it's not like last time," the old snapper retorted. He lifted the pages of the scroll close to his shortsighted eyes and added, "Listen to this. Mmmmmm, mmmm, mmmm…" He began to hum passionately.

The sound was so offensive to Mamoru's ears that he hissed and snatched the scroll right out of his superior's claws. Reading it himself, the coatl quickly scanned the message before sharply tweeting and hopping back toward the pan flute.

Maybe the world really _was_ at stake.

Werd watched as Mamoru whipped the tarp off of the world's biggest and most improbable pan flute. Innumerable metal pipes stood almost on their ends, whistling faintly as wind passed through them. Then Mamoru moved back the wooden slats of the floor and the spiral could see a set of pedals, revealing that this instrument was not a flute, but a pipe organ. Thankfully, too, because the coatl would probably kill himself if he tried to blow into them all.

Mamoru secured the sheets of paper to a music rack affixed to the front of the pipes where he could see them. Then, he began to play.

The first few notes were raspy and muted as dust was pushed out of the disused pipes. Then the coatl began to hop between the pedals with increasing urgency. The song he made of the Arcanist's words certainly wasn't a masterpiece, but as Werd listened he heard the tune go from plaintive to robust, from unsteady to shrill, and then finally calm and repetitive. What it all meant, he couldn't say, and as Mamoru took a short break before starting over from the top.

Werd tapped on the snapper's shoulder. "What's he saying, Gramps?" He asked.

Still obviously shaken by what he had just read, the snapper replied, "Dire news indeed, my son. The Arcanist's letter foretold the coming of a great disaster, one that even the Windsinger in all their infinite wisdom may be powerless to stop."

"Oh." Werd waited for the old wyrm to expand on that grave pronouncement. When he didn't, Werd nudged him again. "What kind of great disaster are we talking about here?"

"Cataclysmic," said the snapper. Mamoru punctuated him with a dramatic series of deep, sorrowful tones. "You were right, the world is in peril. The Arcanist has observed a subtle change in the balance of the world that, if left unchecked, will send us tumbling into the jaws of oblivion itself!"

Werd had to agree, that didn't sound good. It wasn't terribly specific, either. "So does my boss think your boss can find him a giant seesaw, or what?"

"A seesaw!" The snapper reeled. "This is no time for games! Even now, a creature of great evil is making his way across the land, sowing discord and destruction wherever he goes, in thrall to his dark mistress! He cannot be allowed to reach her, or else we'll all be doomed."

That was more like it. "Creature of great evil? Really? And what's the Arcanist expect—that you and twinkletoes over there go out and stop him?" As Werd returned his attention to the organ-playing coatl, Mamoru finished converting the Arcane god's letter to song and fell to the floor in a heap. His legs kicked halfheartedly into the air, sore from so much jumping around.

"Don't be a fool," the snapper was saying. "This is far too much for mortal dragons to handle. We must listen and serve the Eleven as they work to defend us from this terrific foe, as they always have."

"Hmmm," Werd answered, feeling that something had been lost in translation. 'Sit back and let the Gods take care of it' didn't seem like something the Arcanist would say. But he hadn't read the letter and played the giant spooky organ, so he'd better take their word for it. "So what do we do now?"

The excess of emotion that gripped the old derg had faded. He settled back on his haunches and adjusted his glasses. "And now, my son, we wait."

* * *

><p>It hadn't taken Arco long to find his way toward the high platforms that served as landing and take-off zones for balloons that travelled to and from the Cloudsong. Booths had been set up at the ends of long wooden piers where captains and crews all crowed the sky worthiness of their vessels or the speed with which they could cross great distances. Though he heard names of far-off places he'd only ever dreamed of seeing, like the Sunbeam Ruins and the Cloudscrape Crags, none sounded like what Werd had told him should be his true home…<p>

"Cheapest flight to the Greatwyrm Breach, guaranteed," said the hard, gravelly voice of a Longneck leaning against the sign beside one pier immediately to Arco's right. He looked up but couldn't read the inscription, since it was in the beastclan's alphabet.

The dark centaur Arco had seen on the gondola approached the pier. Now that he wasn't terrified of her, he could see that she seemed equipped for a long journey, carrying a pack over one shoulder and a quiver of arrows at her side. The red varnish roan pattern of her fur did not continue on her torso, though a thick patch of freckles over the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks. She had braided the black hair on her head and tail so that it would be manageable, not stylish, and her manners were coarse when she demanded, "Is it a direct flight to the Greatwyrm Breach?"

The Longneck looked uncomfortable. "Stopover in the north-east sector of the Wandering Contagion, on the border of the Tangled Wood," he replied. "Delivery needs be made. Can't be avoided. Is that a problem?"

The centaur wrinkled her nose and looked sharply at Arco, who hadn't realized until then that he'd been watching their conversation openly from just a few feet away, gaping like a hatchling. But when she spoke, it was to the Longneck, not him. "Well, if it can't be avoided." She reached into a bag hanging from a belt on her waist, handed the Longneck something, then clip-clopped past him to his ship. It was more of a raft than anything else, with a single small cabin in the middle and held up by a single enormous balloon. A few other passengers already milled around on board, including a pair of serthis and a particularly hungry looking Mirror dragon. Well as far as company on a life changing journey was concerned, Arco figured he could do much worse. He shrugged and stepped onto the gangplank.

"Where do you think you're going, dreggie?" The Longneck asked him gruffly.

"The Wandering Contagion," Arco answered brightly. "That's where you're going, isn't it? That's a part of the Scarred Wasteland—"

"It sure is," the Longneck grabbed the end of Arco's tail and gave it a rough jerk. The dragon yelped and tottered backwards. "Now are you gonna pay for your ticket or are you gonna try and pilot this boat all by yourself?"

Oh. Well. Arco found himself in a bit of a bind. "Pay for my ticket? With what?"

"Treasure is usually the acceptable currency, but I wouldn't say no to a new purse." The Longneck stood with his cloven-hoofed hands on his hips, drawing Arco's attention to a sturdy leather bag hanging alongside his furry thigh. The thickness of the material and the pattern of its design struck him as familiar. Didn't he see a similar pattern on a dragon not too long ago? Yes, the pale color was almost exactly like Setta's. It even had the same underlying blue sheen as it was hit different ways by the light. Maybe he should ask this Longneck where he'd gotten his bag so he could get her one as a peace offering for being such a pain in her backside lately. For a moment, Arco thought that maybe if he reached out and touched the purse, he would feel the same warmth and life he did when he leaned up against his mother.

Then he recoiled in horror, realizing why the Longneck grinned cruelly down at him, and why the centaur sneered so mockingly from her post aboard his ship. Screeching like a newborn, Arco sank his claws deep into the wooden platform as he scrambled to get away. They let him go, laughing uproariously as he knocked over several more travelers in his terrified state. He ran until he could hide behind a tall pile of luggage stacked beside a pier several rows away and catch his breath.

Of course that Longneck hadn't gone and made a fashion statement out of his mother, that would be ridiculous. Setta was far too tough to be turned into something so tacky. In fact, he wouldn't have been surprised to see her appear right now and teach them a thing or two, just like she had those Talonok. Peering out from behind the luggage as he gathered the courage to go back to the Longneck and tell him so, Arco saw something else that made his blood run cold. As if summoned by his mere memory, a trio of Raptorik warriors landed on the pier he had just fled from, their cruel beaks sniffing the clear upper air. One of them asked a question of the Longneck in their shrieking Talonok tongue, and was answered by a hoof pointed in Arco's direction. The sharp eyed fighters spotted him and crowed.

Fear returning stronger than ever, Arco bolted. He lunged through the gathered visitors and ran dangerously quickly over one of the plank bridges, startling a small family of faes into flight. He left behind the bustle of the departure deck and found himself in the even more chaotic market. He was overwhelmed with sights, sounds, and smells—but he could hear the rasp of Raptorik voices shouting "Out of the way!" and "Move your scaley ass!" to those not quick enough to do just that. Four more had appeared to support the three he had already seen, including a pair of dark-plumed Corven that advanced on him from the opposite end of the marketplace. He could see the twisted tools of their dark arts clutched in their talons.

The adrenaline rushing through Arco's system made his heart race as he looked about for an escape route. The Corven were getting closer, and they'd be on him in a second. Without thinking, he jumped right over the edge of the platform.

Though they weren't any good for flying, Arco pushed his wings open instinctively and let them slow his fall. He glided uncertainly down to another level of staging. Above him, the flightless Corvens shook their fists and lobbed cheeky but ineffective insults. Arco only had a moment to grin at them from within the depths of his dark hood before the Raptorik, still in hot pursuit, zipped down after him with their spear points gleaming.

Dragon and beast clan alike dove out of the plague dragon's way now as he fought to stay an inch ahead of his hunters. But instead of waiting for him to run out of city to hide in, the apparent leader of the Raptorik sliced neatly through the ropes that held the platform aloft. The world dropped out from beneath Arco and several other critters, but fortunately, most of them could fly. Unfortunately there were a few—himself included—that could not.

A sinuous serthis male cursed at Arco between screams for help as they both plummeted toward the ground. Several rotund Snapper babies tumbled through the air around them, some of them even laughing at this strange new adventure. A couple of spirals fell, too, after they had fallen asleep in exactly the wrong place at exactly the right time to be turned into gourmet noodle paste on the unforgiving earth below.

There was a rush of air and a deafening clap as a red Imperial dragon dove beneath them and opened her wings to catch the hatchlings on the rolling expanse of her back. A toothy coatl swooped in to snatch up the serthis, who awarded his savior with renewed screams of terror. Then at last a heroic ridgeback rescued the still snoring spirals by snagging them all on his long, narrow nose and letting them wrap about it tightly.

Arco would have felt happy for them, if he wasn't so busy hurtling to his own messy demise. Then a balloon, carried on an errant breeze, appeared below him and he sank into it with a startled oof! He rolled down its side and onto another platform. This one was a dead end, a segueing stage that had led to other parts of the floating city that had long since been moved. Now he stood on it, alone, as the Talonok approached him on all sides.

He couldn't fly away, but there was no way he could take them on. He could not ask for others to risk their lives to defend him, either, since it wasn't their fight. What the beast clan birds would want with him was another mystery altogether.

Without realizing it, Arco had started to back away from the advancing Raptorik. The leader had landed on the bridge that connected Arco's stage with the main mass of Cloudsong. The dragon watched him point with the head of his spear and shout something to him, probably "don't move or I'll stab you," but he couldn't be sure. The wind had begun to pick up and it drowned out the warrior's words.

* * *

><p>Werd could feel another nap coming on when Mamoru began to stir. The coatl sat up from his spot on the floor in front of the pipe organ, the feathers on the side of his head rigid as they read vibrations in the air. The old snapper sat up too.<p>

"What is it?" He asked. "Does the Windsinger answer our prayers?"

Something definitely was happening, but Werd wasn't sure what. An ill wind had begun to blow, making the pipes hum and bump together. It only grew louder, like the Twisting Crescendo on an especially blustery day.

Mamoru stood poised in front of the pipe organ, ready to receive the Windsinger's sacred missives. Then the noise and the wind began to fade and he looked as close as any coatl could get to tears.

"What is it? What is happening? Windsinger!" The snapper began to totter about. "Windsinger! Please, let us hear your wisdom, grace us with your—"

The wind blasted back into existence with a raw vengeance. It shot out of the pipes so ferociously that the force of the noise knocked Mamoru off of his feet. Werd felt it hit like a wall and throw him nearly all the way to the temple's entrance. It did not seem to lose strength the farther it went; in fact, it only grew stronger, gushing out of the mouth of the great kite like a hurricane.

It bowled over dragon and beast clan member alike, carrying that wretchedly cacophonous song. Far at the end of the aerial city, Arco had nearly finished chewing through the last tough and sour rope that held his platform in place. A buffeting wind kept the Raptorik from getting too close, but it also kept threatening to knock the young plague derg off balance. Then a final, unstoppable gust snapped the rope tether and pushed Arco's balloon up, up and away.


End file.
